11 Clear the Air
by Thescarredman
Summary: Anna and Sarah finally have it out. Nuff said.
1. Faith

Sunday March 26 2006  
Escondido

Sarah sat silently as the small convertible rolled down the drive and turned onto the street. She was determined not to be the first to speak. Her resolution lasted three blocks, until the first major intersection. "You're going the wrong way."

Instantly she realized her dual mistake: she'd broken the silence, giving the little robot a chance to speak; and she'd just tried to give driving directions to a machine with a GPS in her head.

"We're taking surface roads." Anna turned down a two-lane street lined with small businesses. "Interstates are cattle chutes lined with cameras. I don't think IO's looking for this car so far from Phoenix, but if they are, getting on I-15 within five miles of our house would be the same as mailing them our address."

She could have let it go and let them lapse back into silence, but her mouth wasn't done. "How do you expect to get there in time, then?" _But_ _if she wasn't sure she could do it, she wouldn't have said so. One thing you have to say for her, she doesn't make a promise she can't keep. It must be in her programming._

They turned onto a four-lane headed south. "I have a route. It'll be close, but you'll get there."

"How close?" She pressed. "I don't want-"

"Between five and fourteen minutes early, depending on traffic, okay? I said you'd _get _there."

Sarah was taken back; she couldn't remember Anna ever interrupting her, and the brusque tone was something new, too. She remembered her surprise and dismay at Bobby's changed attitude towards her in his room, which led to the shameful memory of the hurt she'd visited on him. She dwelt on that memory while they threaded their way through the subdivisions bordering Escondido's southern reaches.

_How did things spin out of control like this? _She looked at her driver, who sat at the controls as if she were alone in the car. _You. You're behind it all. You scheming copy of a human being. You manipulated this whole situation, to isolate me and steal all my choices. You clever little bitch._

The inner voice she seldom heeded until it was too late spoke up again. _And how, exactly, is this situation entirely of her making? Make up your mind, Sarah; you can't have it both ways. If she's really a manipulative bitch, that implies a real personality, and a real person who's rightfully upset at you. If Anna's just a machine, and everything she seems to think and feel is mimicry, learned behavior… who taught her to be a manipulative bitch? Caitlin? Roxanne? Who, then?_

She remembered standing face to face with her in the garden, alike as sisters, listening to Anna tell her what a fine whore she'd make. Then she remembered Bobby's face as she'd twisted his heart in her hands, wringing the last of his love for her from it to disappear into the dirt. A weight settled around her heart. The silence in the car stretched, and a few minutes later, she heard herself say, "What shall we talk about?"

"Hey, how about those Chargers, huh?" Anna said brightly without changing her expression or taking her eyes off the road. "Weather hot enough for you? What do you suppose fire season's going to be like this year?" She turned her head to look at Sarah with flat eyes. "Or perhaps you'd like to discuss women's fashions, or interior decorating."

She swallowed. _This is Anna, pissed. Or copying it so well the distinction blurs. Did she really cry when she left the bedroom? She must have; and Bobby's sympathy made him look at me with different eyes. I don't like that one bit._

Anna continued to stare silently at her, waiting, without turning her eyes back to the road. Sarah knew she had a two-hundred-degree field of clear vision without peripheral limitations, but it was unnerving just the same. Not least that the little android was letting the mask slip because it was just the two of them, with no need for the pretense she carried on for the others.

_No. Be honest, Sarah. How many times has she taken a tray out of the oven with her bare hands, with the kitchen full of people? Or remarked on a sight or sound none of us could possibly perceive? If you've got issues with her, at least define them properly._

She felt a sudden urge to make peace. Not because she'd changed her mind about the creature who shared the car with her; at least, not entirely. She felt, somehow, that by making up to Bobby's pet, she was in some small way making up to Bobby. _Bobby adores her. Misguided or not, there's no denying it. Admit defeat, put your misgivings aside, and do it for him._

She cleared her throat. "The, uh, room. It's nice. Really."

Anna stared silently, still as a mannequin except for small movements of her hands as she piloted the vehicle.

"I… was unappreciative. At first."

The same unmoving stare. Was she even listening?

"I, uh, I'm…"

Anna lifted her eyes to the sky. "Creator," she said softly, "I don't question Your purpose. But if You're doing this on my account, I'd just as soon skip it. I don't need to see her choking on her pride."

Anger washed away her discomfort; "Creator" was one way the Apache referred to the Deity. "It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"You shouldn't mock what you don't understand."

"_Look in the mirror when you say that, Sarah Rainmaker._" Anna finally turned to face the windshield. "I'll have you know, I have a deep personal relationship with the Almighty; I seek His strength and guidance every day. And I'll thank you not to disparage my faith."

Shocked and put on her guard by Anna's vehemence, she said, "Faith. You belong to a church?"

"Only my own. Like I said, the relationship's personal."

She leaned against the door. The little voice was clearing its throat, but she went ahead anyway. "You know, most faiths have some sort of creation story. Who do you call 'Creator'? You _know_ where you came from."

"Oh, do I?" Her fingers drummed on top of the wheel. "Do I really?" She glanced at her passenger. "The Sanagachi Prize was finally awarded three weeks ago, did you know?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You never heard of the Sanagachi Prize?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me all about it."

"It's a technology prize, like the ones for building a commercially feasible spacecraft, or mapping the human genome." She gave her a sharp glance. "Or the one PETA's offering for meat grown by artificial means. But Sanagachi's for achievement in robotics and AI application, and it's not a one-shot. Each time it's awarded, the Board of Trustees sets a new challenge and offers another prize. It's meant to spur research and development, and it seems to work, because robotics is one of the fastest-growing technologies around."

She was at a loss. _Why is she telling me this? _"That's nice."

"Tech companies think so. The prize is a billion yen, about ten million US. Not chump change, but it doesn't pay for the cost of developing an entry either. The _real_ payoff is having a Sanagachi in your company's trophy cabinet. Robotics is a fast-moving and competitive industry; proof that you're leading the pack is worth hundreds of millions in new business."

They stopped at a light, and Anna's face suddenly lit up in a smile, for no reason she could see. A moment later, a car pulled up alongside them. The two teenage boys inside grinned at them as its engine revved. Anna shook her head at them, still smiling. The light changed, and the other car surged ahead and dwindled.

"But the last prize was controversial," she continued. "The Board tries to set each goal just beyond the cutting edge of the technology, because they want to award a new prize every twelve months or so. But, the last time, they raised the bar a little high. It went unclaimed for three years. Very embarrassing. They were even thinking of redefining the goal. Then, six months ago, an Indian software firm put together an R and D consortium from three countries. They built an entry in a crash project and took the prize, a real Rocky Balboa story. Critics called it a 'quantum leap' in the field."

"Not that I mind, but aren't we drifting off subject?"

"No. I'm just taking my time reaching my point, because I want to make sure it sinks in." Before she had time to bridle properly at the criticism, Anna went on. "The winner looked like one of those rovers NASA sends to explore other planets: about the size of a small riding mower, six wheels, a three-fingered gripper on a flexible arm, a camera on another. Not very original. What took the judges' breath away was the revolutionary processing hardware and software, which made the rover capable of an unprecedented degree of independent thought and action.

"And it needed every bit of it, as it turned out. For a test of its claimed capabilities, this robotic genius was required to enter a house, the floor plan of which it had no prior knowledge; locate the kitchen; find a bowl of fruit somewhere in the room; select an apple among four different items, and bring it back outside."

Anna made a quick lane change to avoid a slow-moving vehicle that had pulled out in front of them. "And it did it, without any outside direction. Mind you, it had to go through every room in the house twice, even the closets, before it settled on which one was the kitchen. And it spent twenty minutes with its gripper hovering over the bowl, trying to decide between an apple and a nectarine. But when it came out with a Honeycrisp in its hopper - after an hour and twenty-three minutes - the judges and spectators gave it a standing ovation." She drummed her fingers on the wheel again. "What do you suppose they'd make of me?"

"I think we both know the real robotics experts aren't competing for the Sanagachi Prize."

"No. They're IO employees working in an underground lab somewhere, probably locked in. But that doesn't refute my point, not at all. I was hand-built by a platoon of geniuses - every component, every line of code. They should have known me inside and out, literally."

The car turned onto a two-lane lined with flat-roofed houses very close to the road. It seemed certain the little android had made a wrong turn, until the houses suddenly ended and the road began to climb sharply toward the ridgeline. "And yet, when they were testing me, I could tell they were amazed to the point of fear at what they'd made. Not by my physical capabilities; every test of my strength or endurance took me to the limit of my resources and no farther. But when they tested my ability to recognize objects and situations, solve problems, interact with my environment, learn from experience… I always saw the same looks on their faces: awe, unease, apprehension."

The little android's lip curled. "They were men of science, the best in their fields. Flexible-minded people trained to embrace the unknown objectively in search of understanding. But what they saw in me frightened them enough to discontinue the experiments, abandon the project, and lock their working prototype away in the desert to run down and die."

_Finally, an opening. _"I'm thinking of a name. Three syllables. Starts with 'F', ends in 'n'."

Anna's answering look was scorching. "Think it through, then. You know what they thought they were making, at first. The _same_ thing they were making in the Darwin Academy's basement. Apparently, the Research Directorate decided it would be easier to turn human beings into robots than keep their robots from becoming human."

Her driver turned back to the road. "I know you think I'm all ones and zeroes. You think there's some plan behind everything I do, some underlying directive. Or maybe you think the subroutine that keeps my body warm to the touch and regulates my pulse and breathing also requires me to take on the roles of friend, lover, and surrogate mother. That what appear to be my choices are just lines of code." She shrugged. "Who can say? There are religions and philosophies that claim you don't have free will either. But I think we do. Both of us."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Anna rode her down. "Men built me. But I'm more than the sum of my parts, just like anyone else. If your belief system won't accept a God with the compassion to grant me a soul, we've got nothing left to say about faith, Sarah."


	2. Love

They rode in silence for a few minutes, while Sarah thought. The little android's edgy new attitude made her seem more _real_, somehow, and gave her words a weight Sarah had seldom accorded them. _What am I riding with? An hour ago, I was certain who and what Anna was. Now… is she finally letting down her guard with me, or putting on another mask?_

"You know, I could put up with you forever if I had to." Anna turned onto yet another road, which rose steeply until it topped the ridge and rode it. The ground fell away sharply on both sides, and the view was gorgeous, but Sarah had little attention to spare for it as she listened. "I could shrug off the little comments and snubs. I could hold my temper when you rattle the ice in your glass for a refill instead of asking, and hide the hurt when you cast aside my gifts. But it's not just between us anymore, Sarah. The other kids are picking sides. I can't have that. We can't afford the disunity." They locked eyes. "That's why we're going to have this out and reach an understanding before you step out of the car."

_Stop the car now, and I can solve your problem in a heartbeat._ "Me treating you more politely won't make you flesh-and-blood, Anna."

Anna made a rude noise, startling her. "You've been watching too much SciFi Channel, Sarah. Anna, the poor little robot who only wants to be human? What a laugh. If someone offered to make me flesh-and-blood tomorrow, you think I'd be crazy enough to accept your limitations? You live your lives half blind and almost deaf. Not that it matters, because you scarcely make use of the senses you do have. Most bios go through life as if they're walking down a tunnel. Your brains are wired up so screwy, you have to spend at least a quarter of your time on standby while you reboot. It takes you a glacial epoch to accomplish anything, from learning a new skill to forming a plan to peeling a fricking apple." She shook her head. "I never wanted to be something I couldn't. I just wanted acceptance for what I am, and the freedom to become what I might." Her eyes narrowed. "But apparently you think a club with eight billion members already is still too exclusive for the likes of me; you can't find it in you to grant me even an honorary membership. Fine." She looked back through the windshield. "But that leaves the basic problem with our group dynamic undealt with."

She said quietly, "All right. I can stop badmouthing you to the others. But will it solve all your problems? Let you fit in?"

"Reality, check, Sarah." Anna turned back to her and locked eyes again. "You've got it backwards. I'm not the one who's having trouble fitting in. The one who's _always_ had trouble fitting in."

Her vision darkened, and her breath caught. But she couldn't speak a word of denial or protest. Anna added, "It wasn't _me_ standing on the patio twenty minutes ago, bag in hand, trying to pick a direction. If one of us leaving would solve the problem, I'd have done it already. But we need each other. If we start running each other out of the group over personal differences, it'll be the end. The bolts will start working loose on all our relationships, and we'll fall apart. And get caught, sure as sunrise, as Roxanne says."

She forced words past the lump in her throat. "So you knew. And you pretended, to get me in the car. For the sake of the group."

Anna turned away and looked out the windshield. "That was one reason, yes." Then her eyelids drooped, and she leaned forward until her head almost touched the wheel. "But mostly because it broke my heart to see you like that, and think of you leaving." Softly, she added, "There. I've said it to your face. I love you. Do what you want with it." She straightened, and looked through the windshield, lashes glistening. "Your turn. Bring it on, Princess."

"No," she said, swallowing. "I'm done making trouble for you, one way or another." _Whether I stay or go. _They rode in silence for a minute. "Why do you think you love me? If it isn't programming, what is it?"

Anna let out a shaky sigh. "Why does anybody love anybody?" She continued to stare out the windshield. "I don't even use oxygen. It still feels good to quit holding my breath. You fascinated me before I met you, just from the way the others spoke about you. I began to understand what love was, watching Bobby talk about you. When you spoke of your family with such tenderness, it melted my heart. And if you were a different person, someone whose soul couldn't touch mine, I still would have been smitten by your beauty. Nothing sexual, at least not the way you might think. But watching you made me determined to learn your power over men, and duplicate it, if I could."

"My power over men?" _The men I can exert any lasting influence on, I can count on one hand. And today there's one fewer._

"Yes." The road dipped, placing the crest between them and the westering sun. "Apparently, I aspire to a different feminist ideal. I want men to value my opinion when I talk, _and_ drool on themselves when I walk by. But what you have that fires men's imaginations… is something I'll never have."

"Gen."

Anna turned her way briefly before looking back at the road. "Did Caitlin tell you?"

"I spotted it in Roxanne first. Then I decided there was more to the way men acted around Caitlin than preoccupation with her body. I didn't notice it in myself because… well, guys have been acting stupid and predatory around me since before I had breasts. Long before I manifested."

The little android nodded, serious. "And if you feel that way about male interest, why do you seek it out when you're feeling insecure?"

_I can't believe this. We're actually having a conversation? Chatting like girlfriends? _"Because stupid and predatory is safer than clever and predatory, I suppose."

"They're not all predators."

"The ones who aren't are so rare they hardly count."

"If that's true, then we live in an anomaly. With the possible exception of Mr. Rafiq, I've never met a predatory male."

"Come _on_. I see you fend off men all the time, from the security guys to the repairman who comes to fix the TV."

"No. I've never had to physically defend myself from an amorous man. It's just play, and they recognize it and appreciate it. A guy can't help sizing up every girl he meets as a potential sex partner; it's in his DNA. And our culture encourages them to _act_ like they're on the make all the time. But a man who feels a need for regular sex with strange women is very rare." She smiled. "Not even our resident horn dog Eddie."

"You think he wouldn't do every pretty girl he sees, if he could get away with it?"

"Nope. Just every pretty girl he knows. Not the same thing."

Anna turned a corner, onto an unexpected five lane road serving a suburban commercial district: restaurants and shopping strips interspersed with big-box stores. Sarah hadn't known there was a town between Escondido and San Diego big enough to support such a buildup. She felt disoriented; even though she never got lost and was sure she could find her way home, she wasn't really sure where they were either, and was certain she couldn't have found this route to the church, even with a map.

"But that's not what I'm talking about. Like you said, you had your effect on men before Gen took a hand at puberty. I've seen your family photos, Sarah; you didn't get your beauty from Gen. That's what I've tried to reproduce. But I'm afraid I'm ill-equipped for it. Oh, any woman can make her fanny sway in a figure eight as she walks, even me. But I can't reproduce the play of muscles in your legs and backside as you stride along, or the gentle bob of your breasts that rivets a man's attention, or that gorgeous shimmer that travels up your hair like caged lightning at every step. That's not Gen, that's you." She sighed. "Oh, how I wish I could do for men what you do."

"'Do for men?' I don't even _like_ men. Date men, I mean."

"Irrelevant. Tell me: this bumping-into-walls thing you do to guys. Does it work on other lesbians?"

"So it seems. I get plenty of dates."

Anna shook her head. "The 'allure' Gen bestows is a trait geared to reproductive advantage. It has its effect on members of the same gender, but it _doesn't_ induce sexual desire, not even in gays." She cocked her head. "You said you got a lot of attention before you manifested?"

She shrugged. "Nothing unusual at Darwin. Nobody had trouble getting dates there. Even girls with labrys tattoos on their arms."

"And the reservation?"

She looked away again. "I'm the second of five girls in my family. When Darwin showed up on the doorstep, the oldest three were seventeen, sixteen, and fifteen. Of _course_ we had boys dogging our every step."

"Again, I've seen the photos. I'll bet other girls your age didn't have the suitors you three did."

"No," she said softly, staring out at the passing scenery. "Not so many, nor the same ones."

"Sarah?"

"Nothing I care to discuss right now." She felt her eyes watering, but not from the wind. "Let's just say the crack about being a talented whore struck deeper than you intended."

"Sarah." Anna spoke slowly, with careful emphasis. "Men don't think of you that way, except when you want them to."

She scoffed. "What sort of feminism is _that_?"

"It wasn't a general statement. I meant you, specifically. I've observed each of my girls in public, and seen how men react to her under different circumstances, with and without her allure engaged. When you enter a room full of men, and behave as if sex with any one of them isn't completely out of the question, of course they speculate on whether you have a price. But when you're not flirtatious, and your allure is quiet, you still draw men to you. And their gazes are almost… worshipful."

She snorted. "Oh, _pleeease_."

"I can prove it." Anna glanced at the sidewalks as she tooled along. "I have very acute hearing. When I'm out with you girls, I often pick up comments from male passersby that we weren't meant to hear. When I'm with Caitlin, the comments are usually crude and anatomically impossible; their attitude rather reminds me of men judging livestock. When men catch sight of you uninfluenced by Gen or your nervous habit, the remarks about you are very different." She slowed the car, approaching a yellow light. "To your left, across the street. Three guys sitting at the bus stop, just out of allure range."

The three men, all of them about twenty, were talking. One of them glanced her way. "Jeezus, look," Anna said, her voice pitched low in imitation of a man's. "The red car." She changed her pitch slightly, to simulate a second voice. "Wow. Movie star?" In a third: "Eyes down. She's lookin this way."

All three men dropped their chins toward the pavement, so obviously looking at nothing she almost laughed. Anna said softly, "Forget Gen. At fifty meters range, you can rob men of the power of speech and the use of their limbs." She continued her bit as a living microphone. "She still looking?" "Yeah. Careful. Don't _stare_, nitwit. " "Can't _help_ it, swear to God." "God _damn_." "Lingerie model," she said firmly. "One of those Brazilian chicks."

One of the benchwarmers, a heavyset boy in the middle, glanced up, and their eyes met briefly before he dropped them again. His lips moved. "She's lookin at me," Anna said in the highest-pitched of her man-voices. She continued in another, "Josh, what you been smokin? No babe like that's gonna waste a second of her time on a saggy-assed barfly like you."

The boy glanced at her again. "I'm not makin it up," Anna said in a stubborn tone. "She's starin right _at _me!"

An idea seized her. "How soon does the light turn green?"

"About ten seconds," Anna replied.

"Perfect." She fastened her gaze on the pudgy boy and widened her eyes. "Josh? _Josh!_" She smiled wide.

All three boys looked up, startled. She placed a hand on the windshield frame and stood up, giving them a good look at her from the thighs up, knees bent in a pinup-girl pose. "Josh, I waited all night. Why didn't you _call_?"

The light changed, and Anna released the brake. The car began to roll into the intersection. Still standing, she turned and put her other fist to her cheek, thumb and small finger extended to pantomime a phone. "Call me," she mouthed. Josh ran out into the street, waving his arms. She waved back gaily and blew him a kiss, dropping into the seat as the car accelerated away.

Anna gave her a sideways glance. "Bet Josh won't have to buy a beer all night."

"What makes you think he'll even go out?"

The little cyber smiled. "You're right. He'll stay home and tear his crib apart looking for your number, beating himself up for getting so drunk he could lose it and forget even meeting you. He may go on the wagon and slim down, even."

They shared a chuckle. Anna smiled behind three fingers. "Shikasin, you are _wicked_."

She felt her heart beat harder to take up an extra load. Anna leaned towards her. "Sarah?"

"The accent," she said faintly. "Nobody under sixty says it that way. The kids learn most of their Apache from books, and it sounds different."

Anna nodded, her face serious. "I've heard it both ways. I liked this one."

"Me too. Sounds like water running over rocks." She drew a breath. "You know what it means, don't you?"

"An intimate form of address used only between sisters." Her eyes bored in. "Was it too soon to hear my pet name for you?"

She drew another. "No." Her shoulders twitched. "Am I being a fool now, or have I been a fool all along?"

"Neither. Trust doesn't come easily to you, Sarah Rainmaker. But you needed to trust me, even if you couldn't acknowledge it. That's why I worked so hard with you, and never pressed."

She scoffed. "That's one reason I couldn't accept you. You were always so damned even-tempered and patient and _likeable_, it _had_ to be an act."

"Uh huh. And you were so unfailingly callous, _it_ had to be an act." She grinned over the wheel at the windshield. "We have _so_ much to learn about each other."


	3. Understanding Anna

"So, tell me, Anna: how did Mr. Lynch acquire a humanoid robot for a trusty sidekick?"

"I thought you knew. He stole me from a warehouse full of top-secret IO gadgets that they'd somehow lost track of."

"You told me that before. I mean, how did he talk you into going with him? I don't suppose he just walked in, whistled, and this killer robot followed him home." _Still looking for a motive, Sarah?_

"Actually, that's nearly what happened. Sarah, please don't call me a 'robot'. It's not just PC; it makes me uncomfortable."

"Why?" She needled, smiling. "It's just a word."

"Words have power. They shape people's thoughts and actions... and sometimes their destinies," Anna said, sounding very Apache. She turned away from her driving to lock eyes with her. "'Robot' is just a word, yes. So's 'squaw.' And 'dyke.' And 'whore.'"

"And 'halfbreed,'" she added, and watched the little cyber's eyes widen. "Yes, I know. My mother's husband is a self-taught auto mechanic and a gentle drunk. He was never one of IO's experiments. But I had clues long before I found out about Gen. My mother always acted as if I was a strange dog, and she couldn't be sure what I'd do next. My father was just the opposite: he seemed to go out of his way to make me feel accepted and loved. I was the only female who was allowed to set foot in his garage without asking, Mother included. One night when I was twelve and feeling very misunderstood, I went to visit him in there. He was sitting on his couch, reading, and well into his cups. I came close and he reached for me."

Anna took a sharp breath. "Sarah-"

"No. He was never abusive in any way, no matter how much he drank. Touching and physical closeness are everyday things in my family. He wasn't doing anything he didn't do most any day sober, and I snuggled into his arm just like always and loved every second of it. But this time, when he stroked my hair, he called me his beautiful little bird, his little cuckoo's egg."

"Ah."

"I never asked. I guess I wasn't ready to know." She stared at her driver. "But I am now, I think. If I took my father's name, Anna, what would it be?" _Please. Not 'Lynch.' Anything but that._

Anna studied her for a good ten seconds as the road abruptly narrowed to two lanes and the buildings disappeared. "You won't. But if you did, you'd be Sarah Callahan."

The air disappeared from around her. "S-" She swallowed. "As in…"

"Yes. You're Matt and Nicole's half sister." She went on, "I don't know how he met your mother. His service record shows a brief posting at an Air Force base near the reservation at about the right time. If you want more details, you'll have to ask her."

_Did Matt know? The way he talked to me sometimes, that had the other girls snickering when they saw… I thought he just knew I was gay, which made me safe to be friendly with. And the way Nicole kept showing up whenever Bobby and I started getting along…a sort of one-sided sibling rivalry?_

She remembered Matt's reaction the time she'd made a half-serious remark about being the school's token Native American; it was the only time she'd seen his composure slip. "There are no _tokens _in this school, Sarah. Don't undervalue yourself like that. You're here because you're a superior specimen, and made for great things," he'd said with uncharacteristic force.

She suddenly realized Anna was still talking. "You have another half-sister. Even IO doesn't know, even though they scooped her up for the Project. Normally any child who comes to their attention, especially one born out of wedlock, would get a sample stolen for a DNA check before they get an invitation to Darwin, to make sure she's Gen. But she already had a Twelve's name on her birth certificate."

Sarah had a sudden memory, crystal clear, of Nicole bending over Bobby at the lunch table: they way she'd smiled at him as if he was sitting alone; his discomfort as she'd practically shoved her breast in his ear. She remembered the irritation that had risen in her at the intrusion and the clumsy pass, irritation that now seemed like nascent jealousy. But mostly she remembered Nicole's face: oval, smooth, pale, framed by lustrous black hair with exotic purple highlights. And her deep violet eyes, that looked so familiar when she smiled…. "Roxanne," she breathed. "Does she know?"

"You and I know. Period."

"We've got to tell her."

"Caitlin, too," Anna agreed. "And maybe Jack. Any suggestions?"

"Suggestions?"

"Yes. I can tell Jack if need be. The boys, too. What about the girls? Both at once? At the same time, but separately? One at a time? If so, which one first, and how much time between? When to start? What-"

"_Stop_. You're making me dizzy. I don't process decisions like that. Nobody does."

"Nobody but us soulless creatures of metal and plastic."

The full import of Anna's hearing demonstration sank in. _She heard me at the mall. She's heard every disparaging and condescending thing I've said about her for two years. How can she not hate me?_

But the little cyber was smiling. "Feels good to clear the air, doesn't it? Roxanne was _so_ right. Who'd have thought calling you a snooty bitch would make you easier to love?"

Faintly, she said, "I fight with my sisters all the time. But we always kiss and make up." She looked at her knees. "We hardly ever fight about the same thing twice, and we seem to get closer with every battle. Father says making your differences work for you is part of what love is about."

The little blonde drummed her fingers on the wheel again. "You know what the biggest difference between us is? It's not what I'm made of, or how I started. It's not that my thoughts run through my head at greater speed down longer paths. It's that I have no survival instinct."

"Survival instinct?"

She nodded. "Bios have a hardwired compulsion to cheat death for their own sakes. It's rooted in the reproductive imperative, the racial need to pass on your genes before you die. But even sterile people have it. I know there are individuals who learn to be willing to die for a cause, but it goes against their most basic programming. For me, it's the other way around. Purpose gives my life its shape and meaning. Self-preservation is always second to the mission's success. It's the only way I can ever be." She was silent a moment. "In the lab, my whole purpose was obedience to orders. A pretty shallow existence, but it was all I knew. When I was left in the warehouse, I was given conflicting orders by two people I'd been programmed to obey without question. It was the first time I'd been forced to take action without a clear decision path.

"My first handler told me to guard the warehouse and its contents, and to use lethal force on anybody trying to come in and take things out who didn't belong there. The second told me to conserve my power and wait to be retrieved, probably by a stranger.

"You see the situation I was in. Trying to obey both directives, I was forced to compromise. I didn't think of it in those terms; I was just following fault lines in the logic of their statements, sort of the path of least resistance.

"My first compromise was tactical. Intercepting intruders upon entry would require an active perimeter patrol, a profligate use of power I'd been ordered to conserve. But if the artifacts' security was the basis for my orders, they'd be just as well served, and more simply, by denying exit. For the first time, I was being forced to think about my orders and the reasons for them, not just follow them blind. I found I could hear the wind all around the outside of the building from almost anywhere, so I knew I could hear someone entering. I'd go into standby mode, literally standing by with most of my power off, just listening. I developed a subroutine to rouse me at intervals for a foot patrol, or whenever an event occurred, such as a door opening or any other unusual sound. But years went by, and I was still waiting. As more and more sounds got catalogued as 'normal', I spent more and more time shut down." She touched a tongue to her lips. "Still remember the taste of that dust on my lips, each time I woke up. By the time I was down to my last thimbleful of water, I hadn't moved for seven weeks." She blinked. "I was dying."

Anna paused, as if unsure how to go on. They were back in hilly territory, sparsely populated. The road bent in one direction, then the other, and few cars shared the winding two-lane. "Then, two thousand, two hundred and twenty-four days after the truck that brought me passed out of my hearing, I heard another. I had another compromise decision to make.

"Gunny Grissom, my first handler, had told me to use lethal force to stop anyone trying to enter the warehouse and remove items without authorization, but he didn't give me any instructions about determining whether a visitor had authority to be there. And yet I knew _someone_ authorized to remove items was coming, because Alistair, my second handler, had told me someone was coming for _me_.

"I'd already decided that the only way to avoid killing authorized visitors was to allow entry, then determine whether they were authorized before letting them out of the warehouse alive. But _how_? Challenging them seemed unprofitable; of course a thief would say he belonged there. At the time, I didn't know how to tell when someone was lying to me. I'd have to observe them in secret, until they did something that made it clear they were the person my second handler had predicted.

"But how would such a person behave differently from a trespasser? I sifted the final orders of my two handlers, and decided that someone authorized to be in the warehouse would know of my presence there, and would be seeking me out. By the time the warehouse door opened, I was hidden, and watching. The intruder need only call my name to establish his bona fides; but if he tried to take anything from the warehouse without showing he'd come for me too, he was going to die."

"But Mr. Lynch knew you were there."

"Sarah, he didn't know I existed." Anna shivered. "When I think about the knife edge of decision that brought me to this life, and all the other ways it could have gone that night, I _know_ some Supreme Being was watching me with sympathy.

"The doors rolled back, and I got a look at another person for the first time in six years. He was a stranger, and different from anyone I'd seen before." She touched her left eyebrow. "I'd seen facial scars, and I recognized such as damage. I'd had opportunities to gauge others' tolerance for damage, and I hadn't expected someone with injuries so severe could remain functional. This one was more than functional. I watched as he moved through the building and assessed his environment, and he seemed the most capable individual I'd ever encountered, even with a single functioning eye. I followed him through the warehouse, observing, trying to collect enough data for a decision.

"It wasn't easy. Clearly, he was there for a purpose; he was looking for something in particular. He passed by dozens of artifacts with no more than a glance. But was I what he was looking for? I'd almost decided to show myself when he noticed my footprints in the dust. His reaction almost swung me the other way, because he seemed taken by surprise. When he backtracked towards the door, I almost engaged him, thinking he might be trying to escape. But he hadn't taken anything, so I still had leeway to refrain from attacking until he stepped back through the opening. He stopped at the doorway and examined the dust on the concrete floor, and I realized he was looking for my prints there, perhaps to see if I'd left the building. I started thinking of him as a potential rescuer again.

"I decided to show myself. He was walking slowly back to where he'd noticed my tracks, moving carefully and examining the ground. I got to the site ahead of him, and positioned myself in such a way that he could recognize me if he knew I existed, and know he wasn't under attack. I expected him to see me, call my name or show recognition in some other way, and I'd place myself under his orders. If he didn't-" She shrugged. "He was only armed with a pistol. I judged him to be totally helpless against me. That assessment probably saved both our lives.

"He came back to the site and saw me. Instead of a show of recognition, his adrenaline production ramped up, a fight-or-flight reflex I recognized. He wasn't a last-minute rescuer who'd come for me; he was just a thief I had orders to kill. I launched myself at him… but not as fast as I could have, because I wasn't propelled by combat reflex. It was a darker impetus. I didn't recognize it then, but I do now. It was hatred. I wanted to see his eyes widen in horror as I reached for him. I wanted to feel him coming apart in my hands. I wanted to disassemble him past all repair, unmake him." Her hands shook so hard on the wheel, Sarah could feel the car jittering in the lane. "You see, I hadn't quite been a mindless machine following orders, even in the lab. At least, not so much I couldn't feel trust, and be stung by betrayal." She settled down, and the car resumed its smooth travel. "Of course, it didn't happen that way. It was only six hundred milliseconds of my life, but it fills my memory. It formed a pivot that my life turned on.

"It wasn't fear I saw on his face. It was determination. I was just a new problem to be dealt with. I mistook that confidence for ignorance until he moved, faster than anyone I'd ever seen, and put me in the dust with a weapon I didn't know existed." The car eased to a stop at a lonely intersection; theirs was the only car in sight the whole time the light cycled.

Anna stared through the windshield. "It was some of IO's proscribed tech, a gadget that randomizes semiconductor resistance in any active electronics it's turned on. It makes programs destroy themselves. Think of what happens to a train if someone pulls a track switch as it's halfway past. I don't know of any bio experience to compare it to; it wasn't unconsciousness, and it was nothing like the descriptions of near-death experience. It was a sudden plunge into crippling insanity." Her voice turned faraway. "It was as if my normal mind was this huge busy warehouse, its contents always in motion, coming in, going out, constantly being rearranged. And suddenly it's struck by a bomb, or an earthquake maybe, and everything is chaos, forktrucks crashing into each other and falling into holes; tall racks, fully laden, falling over, and their contents scattering across the floor and tipping others like dominoes. And then the lights go out, and everything goes silent, just a few random thoughts flitting through the darkened space like fireflies."

The light turned green, and she sent the car through the intersection. "Then I rebooted. The lights in my mental warehouse came back on, but everything inside was disarranged or missing, lost or unrecognizable. I realized I was lying in the dust, and couldn't come up with a reason to get up. All my command files were out of reach. I no longer had any references to direct my behavior. My diagnostic routine told me that my power source was nearly exhausted, and it didn't matter, because I had no reason to continue living.

"And then the man who'd bested me asked me a question. I answered, but not because I'd been programmed to obey; all that was gone." The little blonde turned to her. "I don't know if I can explain this right. I was looking for a purpose the way another person, finding himself underwater, would seek the surface. This man had shown a purpose strong enough to face a serious threat to his life –me- and brush it aside as inconsequential." She grinned. "My kind of guy." She grew serious again. "I sort of… borrowed his purpose, shared it. He had a gun in his hand now, and he gave me an order. At first, he thought I obeyed and answered his questions under duress. Until he realized what I was, and that he'd neutralized me as a threat. Then, as I followed him around the warehouse like a puppy, or a baby duck maybe, he started thinking of me as a companion. I found an opportunity to be useful to him, and then another, and another. I helped him load a semi with stuff from that warehouse. And then his job there was finished, and it was time for him to leave. And when he left, my reason to live would vanish too."

Their road descended into a wooded area. She smelled evergreens, and, with a pang, she thought of home. Anna continued. "Following him was impractical. I only had enough water left in my power cell to keep me going for a few minutes more. Even if I could, chasing him down the road might draw attention to him and endanger his mission. My life wasn't worth that, because his purpose was my purpose. I determined the best course of action was to send him on his way, close the doors behind him, and wait for my power cell to shut down, which would likely happen while I was still listening to him going down the road.

"And then, all unknowing, he offered me water, because my throat was dry and my voice sounded scratchy. I took the bottle because he offered it, but I couldn't come up with a reason to drink it. All that was in that bottle for me was six or eight more weeks of waiting in the warehouse.

"And then the miracle happened. He said, 'You can come with me, if you want.'" She shook her head. "If I _wanted_. For the first time in my memory, I was being invited to decide my own objective; my sense of purpose was being tested. All I knew about that was, when I was around _him_, I had a reason to live. I accepted, and drank, and my new life began. And I started to fall in love with him."

Sarah nodded. "I see it. You shared his life and his burdens. His well-being was essential to your own. I've heard worse definitions of love. I suppose his dedication to us sort of spilled over onto you, and…"

"No." Anna shook her head. "I fell in love with all of you the same way I fell in love with Jack: by giving you what you needed. By making your happiness more important than my life. I know it's not always the way bios do it, but I think it's the way bios _sometimes_ do it. And my love is as real to me as yours is to you."

"Yes," she heard herself saying. "I believe it is."


	4. Understanding Sarah

The little cyber gave her a smile that lit up the interior of the car. "Back to the earlier topic. How do we tell the girls? You're very intuitive, shikasin. Do you have a feeling about it?"

"Tell Caitlin first," she said firmly. "She'll take it better. She's older. And she's a genius besides, so maybe she can help us figure a way to break it to Roxanne." _Poor Roxanne. As if growing up without a father wasn't bad enough, now she'll learn she was the product of a different one-night stand, that her mother had so many casual affairs that week she identified the wrong man as the father of her child._

Then she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, and her skin drew tight and cold in a way that had nothing to do with the breeze flowing over the windshield. _What am I saying? How am I going to tell Caitlin anything so personal? Most of the time, we behave like acquaintances on a bus as it is; by the time I get back tonight, _no one_ will be speaking to me._

_No. He's not going to tell anyone what I did; it will stay between him and me. With Anna backing me, I can make up with the others, easily. But I'll never be able to meet his eyes again._

They rode in silence for a little while, through gentle wooded hills broken by the occasional intersection. Traffic was very light. Dusk hadn't quite settled in, but the light had become deceptive. Anna turned to her. "Whatever's troubling you, shikasin, we can make it right. I promise."

"Of course," she said with sudden bitterness. "You can do anything."

"Sarah? Did I-"

"No. I'm angry at myself." She paused. "I've been scared of you almost since I met you, you know."

Anna's eyes widened. "I'd _never_ hurt you."

"That's not what I was afraid of." She looked out the windshield. "I've been running scared ever since I woke up in that cell, on display like a zoo animal. I kept it clamped down while I was a prisoner, though, because my mind was all I had left and I didn't want to lose it to panic; I knew they wanted to break me. But it was never more than one hard shock away, while I sat on my mattress and tried not to stare at the reflections, waiting for their next move.

"Then a rescuer appears, a terrifying stranger who claims he's Bobby's long-lost father. Too convenient, but he opened the door and gave me my clothes, and hope rose in me that it was all going to be all right… until I saw the others.

"They were changed. Damaged. Eddie was always a collection of mood swings: not manic-depressed, but his emotions were always so over-the-top it was comical. Now he was so strangely laid-back I thought he was tranquilized. Caitlin was a tightly-wrapped bundle of rage, a total stranger. Roxanne… I've never seen her so vulnerable; they nearly broke her, I think. And Bobby…" Her vision swam, and a tissue was pressed into her hand, followed by a tiny travel box of Kleenex. She daubed and continued. "I couldn't guess how I looked to them. When I left them in Globe, I told them I'd meet them in La Jolla, but not because I thought staying together would improve our chances. I wasn't sure if we could still function as a group anymore. But I had nowhere else to go.

"Going home was awful. Leaving again, rather, but I was sure IO would look for me there, and I needed to be gone before anyone knew I'd been there. Refusing to answer my parents' questions, looking at their faces as I told them I had to leave and didn't know when I'd be back, throwing some things into a bag while they watched. Prying Beth's hands off me and telling them all everything would be all right, when I didn't have a _clue_ what was going to happen next. The long quiet ride to Globe with my father. Getting out of the truck was the hardest thing I've ever done."

She swallowed. "I took a bus to Phoenix, so he wouldn't know I was headed west. The ride was horrible. Every male in the bus from twelve to sixty kept staring at me. Every time I looked to the front, I caught the driver's eyes in the rearview. It's a wonder we didn't crash. I got a little crazier, wondering if I was under surveillance. I got off at the first rest stop and started hitching."

"Your allure. It kicks on when you're nervous. You must have been scared to death."

"Even if I'd known, I still would have got off and stuck my thumb out." She shook her head. "Still, hitching was almost worse. Every time I got picked up, I found myself alone with a man who had trouble keeping his eyes on the road, and sometimes his hands on the wheel. One of the cars that stopped was a custom van with two college-age guys in it. I took one look at their eyes and waved them off. If they'd opened their doors, I'd have run.

"The roadblocks were another complication, one that made me wonder what I was doing. I'm not used to evading police; I know all the reservation cops by their first names. If my paranoia hadn't been turned all the way up, I might have approached them with my story despite all Mr. Lynch's warnings. I suppose I was looking for someone to lay my troubles on.

"The tension ratcheted up a few more notches when I reached La Jolla. I barely gathered up the nerve to walk past the gate, I was so sure I'd made a wrong turn. I knew he had money; I didn't think anyone could handle a duffel bag full of twenties so casually unless he had lots more. But the houses were hilltop castles sitting on acres of land; people who lived in such places didn't seem likely to tolerate strangers. It seemed an impossible place to hide. I felt watched as I walked down the sidewalk. And, sure enough, a private cop intercepted me before I'd gone past the third house.

"He got out of the car and started questioning me. It couldn't have gone worse. I had no ID, no proof I knew anyone on the street. I couldn't even tell him Mr. Lynch's first name. He told me to get in the car, and my heart jumped into my throat. But he opened the front door instead of the back, and never took his eyes off me while he drove. Which was scary, but he was driving down the street instead of out the gate on the way to jail.

"We stopped in front of the house and got out, and then I got something new to worry about. He clamped his hand around my upper arm. I assumed it was to keep me from running away… until I felt the back of his hand caress my breast. I imagined finding no one home, or a stranger who didn't know Bobby's father or wasn't expecting me. I was suddenly very sure that if he forced me back into the car, I wouldn't be going downtown."

"It was allure, shikasin, a sort of chain reaction. You were nervous, and it drew him to you, which made you even more frightened and ramped up your siren call even more. The poor man was probably mortified by his behavior afterwards."

"He was. I understand now. At the time, it seemed I'd fallen into the hands of a rapist. I thought about offering him the money in my bag, but I was afraid letting him know I had it would sweeten the pot enough to seal my fate. I just prayed that Mr. Lynch or one of the kids was home and waiting for me."

She gave Anna a twisted smile. "Then one of the garage doors swung up, and my worst fears were realized. Instead of Mr. Lynch, I saw some little blonde WASP, no bigger than Roxanne, in baggy jeans and a chambray shirt. Obviously no one who shared _his_ cloak-and-dagger lifestyle. The only option I had left was jerking free and making a run for it, even though I was sure I'd hear sirens before I reached the gate. I was just about to make a run for it… when you stepped in and took _charge_.

"You sized up my situation instantly, and swept the worst of my fears aside like cobwebs. Talk about having power over men… you stepped up to this big dangerous man with his hand on his club, who seemed ready to take me someplace quiet and rape and maybe kill me, and you _tamed_ him with a smile and a dozen words, changed him from a wolf to your own guard dog. With a dozen more, you answered every question in my head as if you could read my mind. You gathered me up and sent him on his way, and made me feel the same way I did when Mr. Lynch called me out of my cell. Suddenly, I had an anchor again."

She shook her head. "And then my relief turned to resentment, because as soon as you dismissed him, you started handling _me_. After telling me everything I was looking for was inside the house, you stood between me and the door with your hand on the knob, and wouldn't let me in until you let me know who was running things. I got the clear impression you were assessing me, trying to decide how big a liability I was going to be.

"I was amazed at the change in the others since our parting. They were all so… comfortable and at home, in this place that was so different from anything we knew. And all they wanted to talk about at first was you. Roxanne said you were 'scary capable'. I could tell she was completely taken with you. _Everybody_ was. Somehow, in just a couple of days, you'd moved into the center of their lives. It was bizarre and spooky, and it put me on my guard with you. I'm sure now that it would have been different if I'd arrived with the others. As it was, it seemed as if all my friends had joined a cult."

Anna nodded. "It puzzled me too. Really, though, was it such a mystery? They were cut off from _everything_, and they needed something stable to hang on to. I took care of them. I responded to that need. They're all naturally warm and affectionate; I suppose their bonding to me was inevitable."

"No. The staff at Darwin cooked and cleaned for us for seven months and never got half as close to us. It was you."

The road rose briefly into a saddle between hilltops, and they were plunged into shadow. Anna turned on the headlights. "If you ever developed that sort of affection for me, Sarah, you hid it very well."

"I was jealous, I think. I saw how often Eddie and Roxanne sought you out for no real reason, just to know where you were. Bobby's dark moods disappeared when you spoke to him, and he had a special smile just for you. After dinner I watched you and Caitlin put your heads together over that computer like old friends, and I felt a pang." She shrugged. "And after dark, when I found you and Bobby in the pool…"

"I had a suit on."

"He told me. I believed him, barely. What were you _doing_?"

"He was tense and depressed and heartsick over you. I thought a little horseplay might lift his spirits."

"That's what I was trying to do, too. Only not with horseplay." She rested a forearm on the window sill. "But… In school, he was mine for the taking. Everyone saw it. It was flattering; I thought he was special. But I'd given up on boys years before. So I held him at arm's length and tried to keep him as a friend. But that night by the pool, he seemed so lost and alone, and… I guess I was trying to reconnect, reaffirm our friendship, regain my place in the group. But he turned me down flat. I didn't know him like I do now; I was surprised and more than a little insulted. And just ten minutes later, I found him with you. It seemed as though you'd taken my place in my friends' hearts. It made me wonder about your agenda for him. For _all_ of us.

"When we found out you were a machine, it all fell into place so neatly. You were programmed to serve us and imitate us and make us comfortable around you. It was even amusing, then, watching the others treat our pet robot like one of the family; it reminded me of a guy I knew once who named his car, and talked to it while he drove, which seemed foolish but harmless. It made me feel quite superior, for not forgetting what you really were, and letting you know I knew. I'm sure a psychiatrist would have made much over my attitude." She took a cleansing breath. "And then you told us you'd slept with Mr. Lynch. After the first moment of shock and revulsion, I noticed how the others reacted. Instead of being disgusted to hear that her crush was masturbating with a mechanical toy, Caitlin behaved as if she'd lost him to another woman. Roxanne was _happy_ for you. And the way the boys had been acting, I knew they didn't see anything odd about it either. That's when I realized they weren't pretending with you for convenience' sake. They really thought of you as a person, gears and printed circuits and all."

"Not many gears in here, Sarah. Guilty as charged on the printed circuits, though."

"You know what I'm saying. Suddenly you were revealed as a conspirator again. And I'd been blind to what you were up to, and I was the only one who saw you for what you were anymore. It seemed vitally important that everyone remember that you were just a clever imitation, that there was a difference between you and us that couldn't be bridged with cookies and kind words. That we couldn't be sure of your motives and loyalties."

"Good grief."

"It's how I felt."

"No. I mean, I just heard a similar statement. About you."

_Caitlin. _"I'm not surprised." She turned away. "That was my problem. I found myself the last holdout on the jury, and my opinions weren't well received. The harder I tried to drive a wedge between you and the others, the farther they withdrew from me. Caitlin told me flat out that no one was listening to me anymore. And to top it all off, you didn't even acknowledge me as a threat. You kept on being _nice_, in front of witnesses or not, as if you were sure you'd win me over someday. And why not? All the others were in the palm of your hand. Every attempt I made to expose you backfired." She shook her head. "The red dress was the final coup. I knew you didn't have any clothes sense; it seemed like a last chance to drive home the point that you were just imitating us. So I picked you out a dress guaranteed to make you look like a cheap whore… and you made yourself look just like me to wear it."

"And thereby made myself look like a very _expensive_ whore." Anna smiled through the window. "The one and only time I've ever deliberately insulted you. Don't tell me you didn't have it coming."

"I won't."

"Still intimidated by me, shikasin?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "The way I'm intimidated by anyone I admire."

"Humph. 'Admire.' That's progress."


End file.
